“Praises! From whom?”
“From Edwarda. She is still standing away off there in the corner, looking at you with glowing eyes. I shall never forget it; her eyes were absolutely in love, and she said out loud that she admired you.”
“Good,” I said with a laugh. Alas, there was not a clear thought in my head.
I went up to the Baron, bent over him as if to whisper something—and when I was close enough, I spat in his ear. He sprang up and stared idiotically at me. Afterwards I saw him telling Edwarda what had occurred; I saw how disgusted she was. She thought, perhaps, of her shoe that I had thrown into the water, of the cups and glasses I had so unfortunately managed to break, and of all the other breaches of good taste I had committed; doubtless all those things flashed into her mind again. I was ashamed. It was all over with me; whichever way I turned, I met frightened and astonished looks. And I stole away from Sirilund, without a word of leave-taking or of thanks.
XXVII
The Baron is going away. Well and good: I will load my gun, go up into the hills, and fire a salvo in his honour and Edwarda's. I will bore a deep hole in a rock and blow up a mountain in his honour and Edwarda's. And a great boulder shall roll down the hillside and dash mightily into the sea just as his ship is passing by. I know a spot—a channel down the hillside—where rocks have rolled before and made a clean road to the sea. Far below there is a little boat-house.
“Two mining drills,” I say to the smith.
And the smith whets two drills...